FOREVER 41
This morning I woke up to a long text message from my friend Andrea G., and I sorta think every morning should start off this way.
It's a "rap" she wrote:
I cry leaves of black trees
tracing dope memories of Jasper the cat flyin' high
in the 114 coterie cold wind
and ghost sees to spark + ashes
phoenix rise to a sun rise
makin dough with our lives
taken days w surprise
take heart these
eight more lives
To which I responded:
(I had to write it out first.)
In other news, what I thought were gunshots---I live in a depressed neighborhood---these past few weeks has actually turned out to be fireworks:
I can't believe there's been a party going on and I've had my back turned.
Story of my life.
Story of my life.
Comments
"I can't believe there's been a party going on and I've had my back turned."
Always happens to me, too.